


Lying Low

by Flash_Fiction



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Arguing, Asthma Attacks, Author (Probably) has ADHD, Being Mean to Your Friends out of Love, Discussion of ADHD and Symptoms, Jumping to Conclusions, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Misunderstandings, Sappy Gays being Cute, Sarcasm, Setting people up, Siri What Do You Do When Your Gays Won’t Talk To Each Other, Swearing, avoiding problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22103155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flash_Fiction/pseuds/Flash_Fiction
Summary: Dareon and Logan have been pining for far too long, and Roman decides something must be done about it. Percy gets dragged into it too, because of course he does. Patton ships it, because of course he does.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders, One-sided Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Lying Low

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Violetblossem](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Violetblossem).



“You may be wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today.” Roman Moreau folded his arms professionally, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he was seated backwards on a cheap rolling chair. The chair had no cushions, only hard plastic with a texture not dissimilar to the walls of a house built in the seventies.

His roommate, equipped with an immense amount of patience for his theatrics and an innate sixth sense of sarcasm, raised one eyebrow. “All one of me?”

“Yes. There is an urgent matter we need to discuss.” Roman flopped back onto his bed, wincing as he landed. The mattresses in their dorm were thin and had no give, and—not for the first or last time—Roman felt a pang of envy for his roommate’s mattress topper-equipped bunk.

Perseus Connelly, apparently also capable of reading minds, kicked away the chair that had come rocketing towards him and sat up. “You know, you _can_ get a mattress pad. I’ve offered to drive you more than once.”

Roman let out an indignant hiss as his desk chair came careening into his shins. “Leave me be, good sir Connelly. I've resigned myself to this life of woe.”

“Suit yourself, fancypants. And it’s _Percy_.” Grinning to himself while watching his roommate sulk at the ceiling, Percy began counting down expectantly. _Three…two…one…_

“The urgent business!” Roman sat up so rapidly that all the blood rushed out of his head and left him dizzy and swaying slightly.

Percy let out a low chuckle and hesitantly stretched out a hand as if to support him with telekinesis. “Steady, Ro. It’s not worth a broken neck.”

Shaking himself, Roman cleared his throat with an air of great importance. “I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

He received a pillow to the face, then a Tigger plushie. “Stop stalling.”

“It is not stalling. It’s _dramatic timing_.” Roman sulked for a moment, and Percy stared at him flatly.

“Well, if you need more dramatic time, can I go back to sleep?” Percy suddenly regretted using his pillow as a projectile. He’d really been enjoying that nap, too. Well, as much as one can enjoy something while not being awake to experience it.

Roman shook his head rapidly, shoving the pillow behind him to hold it hostage. “No, I’m ready now, and this is important. I’m calling it _Operation Loceit_ —“

“Operation what now?” Percy contemplated hitting him with more pillows..

Roman sighed with a painstaking roll of his eyes. “Loceit! Y’know, Logic and Deceit mashed together?” 

“Of course you’re still using the stupid nicknames,” Percy grumbled, “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Now explain what this is or I’m rescuing my pillow and going to sleep again.”

“You’re no fun,” Roman whined, but complied anyway. “As I’m sure you haven’t noticed, since you’re dense as fog in a graveyard on Halloween, Logan and Dareon have been tiptoeing around their feelings for months.”

Percy blinked. “Doesn’t Logan _always_ do that?”

“For each other, Percy! The two idiots are so oblivious to their obvious pining for one another! It’s up to us to lend them a helping hand!”

“I can only see this horrendously backfiring and blowing up in our faces, but it’s better than studying. What’s the plan?” Percy leaned forward on his toes, now perched atop his bed like a vulture because no true gay knows how to sit.

“Plan? I was supposed to have one of those?” Roman blinked.

“Oh sweet Karen Smith….”

***

“I’m supposed to use the AP style guide, and it isn’t required! Why should I bother if it’s unnecessary?!” Dareon threw his hands up in exasperation, about three seconds away from just chucking his laptop across the room. Or, considering he was way too broke for that, walking away to calm down and then going to the writing center to get someone else to help him edit his article.

Logan Miller, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration and gesturing helplessly with his opposite hand, just shook his head. “For clarity, Dareon. Omitting it could potentially cause unwanted confusion. I fail to see why this is such a massive ordeal to you!”

“Because it’s useless and doesn’t need to be there! Like you!” he snapped, then paused to process what he had said. Horror slowly dawned on his face, and he turned to see Logan staring at him with wide eyes.

His roommate’s expression shifted then, jaw driving sharply upwards and eyes narrowing as they shone with hurt and made Dareon’s gut churn. “Fine, then. I suppose I shall take my leave.”

“Shit, wait, Logan, I-“

“Save it,” Logan snapped, turning sharply on his heel and storming for the door. His jaw was clenched in an effort to hide his trembling chin. “If I really am as useless as you seem to think, then you can find someone else to edit your paper for you. Goodnight.” His voice cracked slightly, and the door splintered a little more as he slammed it shut behind him.

Dareon stared after him, then he was face-to-face with a cinderblock wall with his ears ringing and nursing a throbbing left fist. “ _Damn it_ , Lockewood,” he muttered to himself, eyes stinging, “can’t you do anything _right_ for once?” 

He sat on his bed for god-knows-how-long, head resting in his hands, until a steady rapping came at the door. Not like the knocking kind of rapping, either. Some theatre loser was attempting a one-man rendition of _Hamilton_ directly outside his room. While whoever it was clearly had an astounding voice, their manners and personal boundaries left much to be desired. After six songs, Dareon realized there was no way this person was going to just _stop_ and he now needed to stage an intervention. He stood and shoved the door open with an indignant, “Do you _mind_?” Dareon stopped in his tracks at the sight of Logan’s close friend, Roman, and his roommate whose name escaped his memory.

Roman grinned triumphantly, face a little red from exertion and breath coming in short gasps. “I knew that had to work eventual—“ he broke into a coughing fit, and his roommate rolled his eyes and wordlessly held out an inhaler without so much as looking up from his phone. Roman accepted it gratefully and took a step back, turning away to use it as if he were shy about it.

Dareon tucked his injured hand into his pocket, eyes following Roman with equal amounts of concern and annoyance. “Is he alright?”

Roman’s roommate glanced up finally, sliding his phone into the pocket of his obnoxiously bright pink hoodie. “Magenta.”

“Pardon?” Wow, Logan was rubbing off on him, the sneaky snake.

“My hoodie,” the boy explained, “it’s Magenta, not pink.” He spared a look at Roman, who offered a shaky thumbs up. “He’s good. About the only way to get him to shut up, actually.” 

A wheezy “Hey!” erupted from Roman, then a regal elbow buried itself in his chest. “I don’t…talk that much….”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Wheezing Beauty.” Magenta hoodie turned back to Dareon with a look in his eyes that painfully resembled the look Logan sometimes had when dealing with him.

Right. His roommate. That was probably who they were here for. “If you’re looking for Logan, he’s not here.”

“Really? Didn’t think the guy got out much.” Magenta made a soft ‘huh,’ noise. “We weren’t just after him, though.” 

“Mm. Out to get me too, then? I’m delighted.” Dareon smiled thinly. “Logan stormed off a while ago; I have no idea where he went or why.”

Roman, having regained a little color and breathing almost normally, gave him a Look. “Does it have something to do with that hand you’re hiding?”

“What hand?” He blinked innocently and tucked his good hand into his other pocket, but this apparently did nothing to alleviate suspicion.

Magenta looked somewhat puzzled, apparently not having noticed the hand, but painfully observant, no-sense-of-personal-boundaries Roman just stepped forward and grabbed him by the wrist to examine it. Dareon spared a glance down to see blood beading on the torn skin of his knuckles. The other two hissed sympathetically, then he jerked away. “Look, just leave me alone, alright? I don’t know where Logan went. Go find him yourselves if you want to talk to him.” With that, he turned and slammed the door shut behind him. The hinges rattled, and he made a mental note to talk to the housing department about replacing them.

“Well,” Roman turned on his heel to face his roommate with a bright grin, “I think that went swimmingly. Don’t you?”

Percy sighed and shook his head as he started back for their room. “This was a mistake. Let me know when you have a better idea.”   
  
“I will, don’t worry! These two are getting together by Christmas, mark my words!” Roman let out a frankly menacing cackle and tore down the hall ahead of him at a speed that would have left the RA quaking in his boots.

***

The following days were a helpless haze of Dareon and Logan brushing past one another and only exchanging looks and words when absolutely necessary. The smallest inconveniences escalated to screaming matches, becoming fuel for the slowly-growing blaze in Dareon’s chest. He left his toothpaste out? Logan ranted about responsibility and sanitary concerns for ten minutes. His bed was unmade? Time for a lecture on presentability and last-minute visitors, apparently. He was hunched over his laptop for a few minutes too long? Logan apparently couldn’t help but snap at him about the importance of good posture. 

Dareon started to retaliate, griping over Logan’s constant leg-bouncing, finger-tapping, mumbling and whispering tasks to himself, refusing to tear away from projects and assignments for any reason until they were completed to his impossible standards. All of the little habits and quirks that had once been full of warm familiarity, so endearingly _Logan_ , were suddenly infuriating in the face of unresolved tension.

It was on a Wednesday, the one day of the week that was Logan-free due to his back-to-back schedule and Dee’s one class in the evening, that Dareon woke up late to a note on his desk. Written on an index card in neat, slanting cursive that landed perfectly on the pre-printed lines, it read simply: _Meet me in the library at seven. It is high time we sorted things out._ A flutter of hope in his chest, Dee stashed the card in his pocket and started to clean the dorm with fresh vigor. They could talk things out, Logan would actually listen, and then he’d be pleasantly surprised with the freshly cleaned room. Things were going to be okay!

Things weren’t even close to okay. The light feeling in his chest started to sink when he arrived in the library to find Logan with his arms crossed, glancing from his watch to Dareon with his eyebrows raised. He realized with a sick pang in the pit of his stomach that this was the first time Logan had looked directly at him in nearly a week, and it was with that gutting expression of impatient contempt. “Well, while it is unlike you to be punctual, I had assumed you’d at least be on time for a meeting you orchestrated.”

Dareon felt his eyebrows tug together in confused frustration. “Me? _You_ planned this, I thought you wanted to apologize about what happened!”

“Oh, so you still want _me_ to apologize,” Logan hissed, rolling his eyes. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You must think you’re terribly clever, setting all of this up to try and beguile me into taking the blame.” He was already starting past Dareon, movements sharp and jarring with anger that contrasted his usual fluid gait.

The fire in Dareon’s chest, though it had briefly died down to flickering embers, now flared and sparked back to life as Logan stirred it. “This is what I’m talking about! You always just walk away, I don’t even get a chance to talk because you won’t fucking _listen_! You’re so selfish—you always have to be _right_ , don’t you?” A brief pause. Logan’s hands curled into fists at his sides, one was swept roughly across his face, then he shoved the door open and vanished down the sidewalk.

He was scarce after that. Dareon was torn between being furious with his roommate and worried sick. Logan never noticed the cleaner state of the dorm on the rare occasions he was there, or if he did, he refused to comment on it. Between classes and working in the writing center, science lab, or library, Dareon would hardly see him for days at a time. Anytime his roommate returned, Logan would suddenly have business or plans to attend to elsewhere within a few minutes of his arrival. Roman and his roommate popped in occasionally to check in, but left upon realizing that Logan wasn’t there. Dee was left mostly to his own devices, which may have been a good thing anyway since he definitely needed to be studying for finals. Unfortunately, the nagging anger and guilt in the back of his head made focusing nearly impossible. He was far too used to being study buddies with Logan, and he ways paying the price for not building enough independence. 

***

Roman had assumed the position again, straddling his desk chair backwards with his arms folded over the back of it, and Percy was about ready to throw the stupid thing out the window. The chair, that is. Well, maybe Roman, too. “What is it now?” he grumbled, hesitating to ask but not really having a choice since Roman didn’t seem too keen on initiating it himself.

“Our attempts up until now have been unsuccessful,” Roman informed him, which was entirely unnecessary since Percy had been in the library to witness the backfiring of Plan B firsthand.

“You don’t say. I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to make me agree to this.”

Roman just laughed merrily. “You say that like you had a choice! Though I must say, that forgery was surprisingly good.”

“You think so? I just kinda picked it up, I guess.” Percy picked at the seams of his duvet bashfully, something in the back of his mind whispering that maybe this skill wasn’t worth being proud of, but he metaphorically choked that something in a metaphorical alley. “Anyway, I’m guessing you’re trying to enlist my help in yet another plan?”

“Precisely, my dear Perseus! Do you happen to know where one would acquire mistletoe?” Roman was bouncing his legs on the balls of his feet, eyes alight with excitement. “Purely for curiosity’s sake, of course.”

“...this may be your worst idea yet,” Percy said in slight disbelief. “You really think it could work?”

Roman just shrugged, kicking off the floor so that his chair spun a couple of times. “I mean, it’s worth a try, right?”

“Whatever you say. This time of year you can probably just scale a tree and pick some, it’s in clumps everywhere.” Percy pondered for a moment. “You probably need a ladder or a conveniently-located balcony to reach it though.”

Roman sat up straight (ha) with a cocky (haha) laugh. “I shall scale the tree by hand like a true man!”

“Ah yes, the two genders: ladders and climbing trees by hand,” Percy muttered dryly. “Have fun breaking your neck, loser.”

“I _will_ , thank you very much.” With that, Roman was on his feet and out the door.

***

Make no mistake in assuming that Dareon _adored_ waking up to the glorious melody of Logan shouting. Truly, there was nothing like it. Especially when, upon sparing a glance at his phone (why hadn’t he turned the brightness down, _dear god_ ), he still had an extra couple of hours to sleep. He groaned and sat up reluctantly, raking loose hairs out of his face and squinting blearily at the doorway where the fuzzy form of Logan stood. “What is it? I’m not supposed to be up for another two hours, asshole.” 

“Are you _blind_?” Logan’s voice was sharp, piercing, irritated, and it _burned_.

Dee scoffed and hid a wince. “Without my contacts? Pretty much. Not all of us like the nerdy glasses look, specs.”

“That isn’t the point, Dareon! This is no longer amusing!” The floor shook a little as Logan stamped his foot childishly. 

“What are you talking about?” Dareon’s hand fumbled across his desk a few times before finally landing on his hardly-used glasses. He unfolded them and slid them on, blinking a few times. They magnified things quite a bit more than his contacts, and his eyes ached a little. Logan was holding a sprig of something green, tied in red ribbon. His eyes were narrowed practically into slits, and his cheeks were flushed furiously. “Nice plant, got a secret admirer? You’re holding it upside-down.”

Logan crossed his arms, crushing the plant a little. “Don’t play the fool. You know exactly what you’re doing, and this is far over the line. I will be notifying the housing department that I would like to switch roommates next semester.”   
  
_Wait, what_? Dareon’s eyes widened desperately. “Logan, hold on, what are you talking about? It’s just a plant.”   
  
“‘Just a plant.’ Very mature. I certainly hope your next roommate is more tolerant of your mistletoe shenanigans.” Logan dropped the plant disdainfully, grinding it into the floor under the toe of his shoe and turning on his heel to leave once more. As always, he didn’t stay long enough to let Dareon talk.

His roommate, however, was distracted by the plant on the floor. His cheeks heated a little. _Mistletoe? Who would hang that outside our door?_ He opened the door and peered down the hall. Sure enough, none of the other doors had been defaced. Who was responsible? Dareon bent down and picked up the sprig of mistletoe, studying. The ribbon, made of red silk and hemmed with golden thread, was oddly familiar. In fact, it was perfectly identical to ribbon that had been used in costuming for the theatre department’s most recent production. Dareon knew exactly which hopeless romantic had been in charge of costume creation, and he knew exactly where to find him. Fury blazing in his chest once more and with the scrappy plant clutched in a fist, Dee stormed down the hall.

Roman Moreau was easily found at the campus’s old Greek amphitheatre, and Dareon heard his sonorous voice before he actually got close enough to see him. He was standing erect, center stage, singing a solo that Dee didn’t recognize. Maybe something from a musical, maybe something entirely his own; Dee found that he didn’t particularly care to ask either. He leapt down the step-style seats a few at a time, eyes narrowed. “Roman!” 

The actor paused and turned, brightening at the sight of Dee. “Dareon! Just the man I’d been hoping to see! Cute glasses, by the way. I wanted to ask—“

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” He demanded. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened just then, but suddenly he had backed Roman into a pillar with apparently enough force to leave him wheezing. He held the wilting mistletoe in front of his face. “You were responsible for this, weren’t you? It has your name written all over it. You probably wrote that note, too!”

“Dee, stop,” Roman choked, twisting a little in his grasp. “I’ll explain, just let go of me!”

“So you admit it, then! Do you have any idea what you’ve _done_? He hates me!” 

Dareon could hardly hear Roman’s raspy breathing over the blood thundering in his ears. His chest expanded marginally against the force of Dee’s body. “Please, I can’t—“

“Shut up!” Dee hissed, driving his elbow sharply into Roman’s abdomen and sending a soft rush of air from his lips. “You ruined every possible chance I had! He’s switching roommates because he thinks I tried to hit on him while we were fighting!”

A distant voice faded into range in the distance. “Hey! Hey, what the hell are you doing? Get off of him!” Suddenly Dareon was hauled backwards by the collar of his shirt, choking and spitting like a furious feline. He turned to face his attacker, fists raised, and was met with the furrowed face of Roman’s roommate. Magenta had beat him to the punch. Literally. His right fist was already wound back, and the surprisingly forceful hit landed across his nose with a stomach-churning snap and a flare of blinding pain.

Dee stumbled backward, clutching his nose and swearing as profusely as he was bleeding. It took several minutes before he was able to look through the haze of pain to see Magenta on his knees, back to Dareon and obstructing his view of Roman. It was probably intentional. He remembered with some reluctance what Logan had taught him after a particularly bad fight and tilted his head forward, pinching his nose shut. “You were in on it too, weren’t you?” he accused. 

Magenta’s shoulders tensed, but didn’t turn around as his focus remained on Roman. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“That’s a yes, then.” Dareon’s voice was thick and muffled from his attempts to stop the absolute blood faucet that his nose had been reduced to. “The two of you had no right to get involved! How I feel about Logan is none of your business.”

“Not gonna argue with you on that one. Roman was the one who wanted to set the two of you up, but I should have stopped him before he took things this far.” Magenta glanced over his shoulder with an expression Dee couldn’t quite read. Perhaps it was somewhere between anger and guilt. “Still, you shouldn’t have jumped on him like that. You could have killed him.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic? I’m aware this is Roman we’re talking about, but come on.” He raised an eyebrow. Sighing, Magenta wordlessly held up a red inhaler. Dee’s stomach twisted with guilt, and he immediately rushed to defend himself instinctively. “He ruined everything!” he protested lamely, realizing just how painfully childish it all sounded. 

Magenta huffed and shook his head. “Not an excuse. Besides, isn’t your whole issue with Logan right now that he won’t listen to you? Bit hypocritical there, dude.”

“How did you know that?” Dareon demanded, heart racing.

“Contrary to popular belief,” Magenta muttered dryly with a Paddington-level hard stare at Roman, “I’m actually pretty observant. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m going to take Roman back to our dorm. You should probably head to the med center.” He stood and bent to help his roommate off the stone stage, wrapping one of Roman’s arms over his shoulders. Roman’s breathing had regained some semblance of control, but he still looked sickly pale and exhausted. Magenta looked at him, blatant worry spilling off of him in waves, then took a deep breath and turned back to Dareon one last time. “I know you want to blame Roman and I for all of this, and I admit we should have kept our noses out of it, but you and Logan were already fighting before we even got involved. Whose fault was that?” 

A jolt of something cold raced through Dee, like someone had shot saline into his bloodstream. He glanced up, mouth open to say something, but the words died on his tongue. The other two were already gone.

***

“How are you doing?” Percy asked softly. He was seated on Roman’s bed, legs curled beneath him as he leaned forward worriedly. Several inhalers of varying shapes and colors were piled beside him.

Roman was propped up on every pillow possessed between the two of them, his face still devoid of its natural color but his breathing almost normal. He nodded slowly, letting his eyes flutter close as he sank back into the pillows. “Better. I…I’ll be okay.”

Percy frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the medical center?”

Shaking his head, Roman managed a short laugh. “They can’t do anything but tell me to do exactly what we already did, and I’d rather not run into Dareon. Thanks for that save, by the way. You did good.” Percy was about to brush him off, but Roman kept talking. “I really messed up, didn’t I? _God_ , I hate myself. I’m just a selfish, inconsiderate moron who doesn’t care about his friends’ feelings and—”

“Roman,” Percy interrupted, “we both fucked up. You’re not a bad friend.” 

“But what if I am?!” he blurted, vision blurring and then clearing rapidly as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t want to lose him, Percy, and he’s going to hate me!”

Percy smiled a little, sadness and something akin to pity festering in his gaze as he watched Roman. His voice was soft, holding the wise undertones of someone far older. “You love him, don’t you? Logan. That’s why you were so set on this.”

With a soft, pathetic laugh as he rubbed his eyes dry with the back of his hand, Roman just nodded. “You really are more observant than I give you credit for.” He swallowed thickly as a rock rose in his throat. “He doesn’t see me that way, he never will. I love him so much, and I want him to be happy, and I know I can’t give him that.”

“So instead you’re going to help the person who can,” his roommate finished, reaching to take his hands. “You’re a really good friend, Roman. Logan is very lucky to have you. We might need to work on boundaries a little, but what’s a person without flaws, right?”

“Right.” Roman smiled wetly, then made a face as his nose ran. “Oh, ew. Do we have tissues?” 

Percy stood with a soft laugh and a smile. “I’ll go get some more. And chocolate. Get comfy, we have finals tomorrow and this seems like a great segway into prime relaxation.”

***

Dareon didn’t go to the medical center. He wasn’t really sure where he intended to go, actually. He just sort of stood up and started walking wherever his legs happened to take him, eventually finding himself in a residence hall that he didn’t live in and standing in front of a door. The dog cutout on the front read ‘Patton! :D,’ accompanied by a cat that read simply ‘Virgil.’ Great, Logan’s brother’s room. He turned to leave, but was stopped by the creaking of a door.

“Dee! Can I talk to you for a second?” Freezing, but hesitating too long to pretend he hadn’t heard, Dareon simply nodded and turned to face the owner of the voice with his head bowed. Just his luck. He followed the boy into his dorm room and settled amidst a mound of stuffed animals. There really weren’t any better places to sit, so he tried his best not to bleed on them.

Stupid, observant Patton Miller crouched down in front of him, then decided that tending to Dee’s face took priority over whatever he wanted to say. One box of tissues and an ice pack later, the interrogation began.

“This had something to with your fight with my brother, didn’t it?” Patton smiled at him, but it lacked his usual cheer. Instead, it just had an air of weariness about it.

Wad bloody tissues still clutched to his nose, Dee nodded. “Sort of. Turns out Roman and his roommate have been trying to set us up. They planted the notes, hung the mistletoe, all of that.”

Patton seemed shockingly unsurprised. Logan had probably already told him what had happened, the two always told one another everything. He simply tutted and shook his head. “Those two…. No wonder things got blown so out of proportion.” 

“They weren’t the ones who started this in the first place. I was stressed about my dumb journalism assignment and I took it out on Logan,” he muttered. “Still, he shouldn’t just run off all the time. He never _listens_.”

“He does need to work on that,” Patton admitted, “but he’s not trying to be inconsiderate. You know he’s ADHD, right?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Dareon huffed a little through his nose, then winced as the pain flared again.

“Are you okay?” A warm, freckled hand rested on his knee gently, quizzical blue eyes locking on him. When he received an affirming nod, Patton continued. “Logan has a lot of trouble with RSD. Heard of it?” Dee shook his head. “It’s a symptom of ADHD. Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.”

“Sounds like a gender thing,” Dee mumbled.

Patton laughed softly. “It sort of does, doesn’t it? People with gender dysphoria feel discomfort because of their assigned gender. People with RSD have the same sort of discomfort, but it’s triggered by being rejected or shunned. Or, in some cases, what they perceive as such.”

“Yep, you’re definitely Logan’s brother.” Dareon swallowed thickly, tasting a little blood. “Shit, this really _is_ all my fault. Logan hates me!” 

“That’s not what I said.” Patton, with the patience of a perfect saint, just shook his head. “It isn’t your fault, you didn’t know. Sure, you shouldn’t have said what you did under any circumstances, but you can’t entirely help what you do when you’re stressed and sleep-deprived. You need to be more considerate, sure, but Logan needs to work on listening to others too. You’ve both got room to grow, just like everybody else. And don’t worry, I highly doubt one fight could make him hate you after he’s been in love with you for _years_!” 

“He’s what now?!” Dareon’s eyes widened, and Patton’s horrified expression mirrored his own as he clapped both hands over his mouth.

Slowly lowering them, Patton laughed nervously. “I…wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

After a long pause, Dee set his tissues aside. “I need to talk to Logan. Do you know where he is?”   
  
“The library. I should come with you and apologize for spilling the beans.” Patton froze, eyes locked on his face. “Oh my goodness, that looks broken! Dareon, why didn’t you—Dee, wait!”

He didn’t wait, though he did pause to pick up the bag of ice to take with him. Dareon headed to the library with an urgency in his step that left Patton puffing at his heels. He probably should have slowed down so there wouldn’t be an incident like with Roman, but Patton didn’t have asthma and Dee could only think of Logan. Fueled by gayness and a flair for the dramatic, he kicked the door open and stood there, eyes wide and searching. He was promptly shushed by everyone in the immediate area, including a specific, especially annoyed-looking someone in the corner.

Dareon’s stopped breathing for a moment, and his next breath came as a soft whisper of Logan’s name. It was almost as if there was a soft glow emanating from the man, who was standing and looking annoyed and increasingly confused as Dee’s brain provided anime rose petals swirling around him. He started forward slowly, pausing when he was face-to-face with Logan. “You’re in love with me.”

Logan’s eyes, a stunning shade of deep brown, widened in alarm as his cheeks turned a vibrant shade of red. They darted to Patton, sheepishly waving a couple of paces behind Dee. “I...I’m really sorry, Lo. I didn’t mean to, we were just talking and it sort of slipped out! Please don’t be mad.”

It only took one deep breath for Logan to compose himself to an impressive degree. “I’m not upset,” he assured his brother, then paused and corrected himself. “I am only mildly upset. I forgive you. Yes, I am afraid I’ve been rather fond of you for a long time, Dareon. I understand if this further impacts our former friendship, but by next semester we can pretend as if we never even met.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Dee blurted, then quickly added, “in a good way! I love you too. A lot. And I’m really, really sorry about what I said before. I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I’ll be more careful in the future, I swear.”

“Oh. Oh!” Logan blinked a few times, taking a few minutes to process this new information. “Apology accepted. Likewise, I apologize for not listening until now. It is comforting to know the feelings are returned.”

“So would you still maybe want to be my roommate next year?” Dareon asked, soft and almost shy as he held out a hand. “Maybe even…my boyfriend?”

Logan took his hand with a brilliant smile that made Dee want to melt and lit up the dim library like moonlight. “I’d be honored.” He took a step closer to him so they were nearly chest-to-chest. Or chest-to-neck, considering Logan was a good eight inches taller than his roommate. 

Dareon tilted his head up slightly to look him in the eye, though his gaze paused briefly on his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Certainly,” Logan murmured, bending slightly to meet him. He was warm and gentle and tasted like mint lip balm and herbal tea. He was also a far better kisser than Dee had anticipated. 

Patton, who had been silent up until that point, clapped and cheered. Dareon had, quite frankly, forgotten he was there and startled, jerking back abruptly. In the process he accidentally knocked noses with Logan, sending white-hot pain through his face again as a slew of profanities spilled from his lips.

They received a well-deserved shushing from everyone else present, and Logan lowered his voice before addressing Dee with concern. “What on earth happened to your nose? It looks broken!”

Dareon poked it gingerly and winced. “Patton thinks it is. Roman’s roommate has a mean right hook.” 

Logan let out a cry of alarm, and a student stood with a frustrated screech. “I just want to study for my finals in peace, goddammit! Is that too much to ask?!” The librarian, who didn’t get paid enough to deal with this shit, just threw back another shot of espresso with a flat expression as the student stormed out.  
  
Logan had the good grace to look sheepish as Dareon continued. “I sort of jumped on Roman in a fit of rage after finding out he was the one responsible for the notes and mistletoe. I still have to apologize for that.”

“That idiot, of _course_ it was him,” Logan murmured, a soft note of fondness in his voice that would have made Dee jealous if he hadn’t just been kissing him. “I suppose more apologies are in order, but I believe we should get your nose seen to first.”

Thus they headed off to the medical center, hands linked, with Patton trailing behind them and frantically texting his roommate a play-by-play. 

***

“Alright,” Percy announced, “we have our official Plan D. This is D, right?”

Roman just shrugged unhelpfully. “I’m an actor, I don’t know numbers.”

“Good point,” Percy snorted in amusement, then he was all business. “We’re staying out of it this time. Mostly. If luck will have it, we can get the two of them together in one location, apologize, and then try to get them to talk things out with one or both of us as mediators. If we can’t get them together, we may have to split up and talk with them individually. You take Logan, he’s your best friend. If we convince them to talk things out, the plan is three o’clock at the fountain. Any questions?”

Roman raised his hand. “Yes, why didn’t we just do this to begin with?”

“Because when we tried you decided _Hamilton_ was the best summoning call and had an asthma attack from poor breathing control, then Dee yelled at us and you took off with your extravagant plans to set them up. The moral of this story is that I’m always right, your ideas are terrible, and love is a vicious double-edged sword.” Percy smiled smugly.

Dumbfounded, then resigned to agreement, Roman shrugged once more. “Fair enough. Anything else you want to emotionally wreck me with before we go?”

“Nope, just remember: the goal here is speaking terms, not true love. Got it?”

Roman nodded firmly, setting his jaw with a surprising amount of seriousness. “Got it. Let’s do this.”

Both of them turned as a knock came at the door, and Percy was the one to stand and answer. “Well, speak of the devil,” he remarked.

“Devilishly handsome, maybe,” Logan’s voice was warm and affectionate, accompanied by a soft, flustered giggle that could only belong to one person.

Roman stood so quickly that all of the blood rushed out of his head and his vision went white for a few seconds, leaving him to stagger and cling to his bedpost as he blinked to clear it. “Are you _kidding_ me?! And after all that trouble!”

Percy rolled his eyes, and gave Roman a look. “We just talked about this, man. Also, are you okay?”

“Fine. Excellent. Great. My dreams of being the school’s resident matchmaker have been crushed to bits before my eyes,” Roman whined, dragging his hands down his face in a manner that probably would have stretched them out and left them drooping if he’d been a cartoon character.  
  
Dareon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with his free hand, eyes averted to the floor. “About that. I…I’m sorry for attacking you. You were just trying to help, and you didn’t deserve that.”

Roman chilled out only briefly. “I still shouldn’t have gotten involved like that. It wasn’t my place. I’m sorry, to both of you. Friends?”

Logan and Dee exchanged a glance, then turned back to him with warm smiles and affirming nods. They were already synchronized like an old married couple. “Friends.”

A curly-haired stranger with striking baby-blue eyes and the most adorable freckles Roman had ever seen on a human, dead or alive, popped out from behind the happy couple with an ecstatic grin. “Aren’t they just the _cutest_?!”

Roman jumped. “Who are you?”

The boy blinked. “Oh, right, we haven’t formally met. You’re Roman, right? Lo and Percy talk about you a lot! I’m Patton, Logan’s brother!”

Dareon held up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait. Who’s Percy?”

Percy raised one eyebrow. “Uh, me? Hi, we’ve met. Sorry for breaking your nose by the way.” 

“I deserved it.” He shrugged. “Do you happen to know a Virgil Connelly?”

“My little brother, he’s how I know Patton. How’d you guess?” Percy glanced down at his hoodie, painted with some band logo Roman didn’t recognize. “It’s the hoodie, isn’t it?”

“It’s the hoodie.”

“Excuse me,” Roman interrupted, raising his voice, “but can we go back to the part where I’ve somehow never met my best friend’s brother?” He held a hand out to take Patton’s, kissing the back of it lightly when he was obliged. “A pleasure to meet you, lovely.”

Patton grinned brightly with a flustered giggle that made Roman’s cheeks burn and stomach flutter. “So charming! The pleasure is all mine, good sir!”

Percy heaved a great sigh, as if he were Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and glanced at the blank wall behind everyone else as if he was on _The Office_. “Mamma mia, here we go again.”


End file.
